


I am your desperate Pylades

by Kujaku



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Because of Reasons, Hurt No Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6242905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kujaku/pseuds/Kujaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>- Are you a dog, Grantaire? Must I treat you like one to finally teach you obedience? </p><p>Grantaire's smile didn't even waver as he watched Enjolras walk towards him. True, he could have at least stood up, or stopped grinning, but he couldn't stop. He'd gone too far to simply back down now, and as much as he sometimes cursed his reckless mouth, he didn't stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am your desperate Pylades

**Author's Note:**

> For my dearest Wilwywaylan. A very late Valentine's gift to be enjoyed with lots of tears.

\- Are you a dog, Grantaire? Must I treat you like one to finally teach you obedience?

Grantaire's smile didn't even waver as he watched Enjolras walk towards him. True, he could have at least stood up, or stopped grinning, but he couldn't stop. He'd gone too far to simply back down now, and as much as he sometimes cursed his reckless mouth, he didn't stop it. He went so, so far to get Enjolras to at least look at him these days, after trying to get his fantasies under control. But as ever, he failed as he failed everything else.

His demons were too strong, with his drinking as with his desires, no matter how he had battled them. So he'd given up. As usual. And some part of him was proud of the fact that at least in this, at least pertaining to Enjolras, he wouldn't let go, he wouldn't give this up.

\- Answer me, Grantaire.

\- To which question would you like an answer first? I suppose both answers would be the same, even if I can sometimes be more beast than man.

\- You only need to look into a mirror to see that, I know. And yet it is not your face that I thought of when I asked you those questions but your recent actions.

Grantaire shifted in his seat, the silence of the Musain's backroom broken by the creaking of the wood. Enjolras had waited until all the lieutenants had left, and the only life in the entire café's floor was just both of them, to turn his attention away from the latest flood of papers on the table and to face the other man alone. And for that, Grantaire was grateful. Whatever would happen didn't concern the others, no matter what they had probably already wagered would happen.

\- So answer me. Are you a dog?

\- For you, I could be.

Ah.

 

There it was again. His cursed mouth, that fountain of sarcasm and self-hatred that never managed to quite shut itself, even when a bottle filled it up. Just by the way Enjolras narrowed his eyes and steadied himself was all the proof Grantaire needed to understand once again just how much the leader in red despised him. And why would he not? Any sane person would have chased him away long ago, instead of putting up with his useless remarks, perverse ideas and overall good for nothing attitude. He bought nothing, he contributed nothing, and only stayed during the meetings because of the friendship he'd found and the light shining from Enjolras' eyes, the passion and life coming from his voice. But for now, Enjolras seemed more likely to strike him than to do speak at him, his eyes still fixed on him and his arms at his side.

The silence grew longer and heavier. Had he finally done more than toe the line? In front of him was the perfect semblance of a wrathful angel, ready to strike at the slightest provocation. So the moment had come to retreat, to bow his head and admit defeat this time again. He finally pushed the chair back from under him and stood up, eyes lowered.

\- Forgive me. I should not have spoken thus. I will leave you to your work, it will certainly revulse you less than I.

\- No. You will stay.

 

Enjolras didn't recognise his own voice, nor really the words that escaped his lips. He doubted even Grantaire was more surprised than , especially after all that had been said. Before he could begin to wonder more, he crossed his arms and calmed his voice.

\- You said you would be a dog for me, didn't you?

\- I did. And I would beg your pardon for that.

\- Then do so.

He could feel his heart beat like a drum but never left his eyes waver from Grantaire's face. The emotions that flickered there went from curiosity to confusion, but at last, recognition settled as the other man pushed the chair out of the way with a heel and knelt on the floor. And there he remained, eyes still downcast and not a hint of rebellion in his shoulders.

\- I beg your forgiveness.

\- Is that all you can do? You pride yourself on your silver tongue, and yet you can only manage the plainest of words?

Grantaire merely shook his head, not moving from his knees, his voice still subdued.

\- And what words would satisfy you, Enjolras? Pray, tell me and I will shower you with them.

\- I do not require your words, they mean nothing.

\- Then what would earn your pardon?

Enjolras hardly believed what he was doing; he who had often looked down upon Grantaire for his brazen ideas, he simply reached down and pulled on those dark curls, bringing Grantaire's head right up.

\- Be my dog.

*

Silently, Enjolras sat back in his usual chair, legs crossed at the ankles and a thoughtful look on his face. One hand was under his chin, the other was wrapped around one end of Grantaire's cravat; it was the first time he'd actually seen the fabric undone, for no matter how sloppy Grantaire could appear, his attire was always impeccable. Although at this moment, attire was hardly what mattered.

Grantaire was still on his knees, head bent and his cravat securely tied around his throat like a leash. He hadn't protested when Enjolras had tied it, as securely as he could without risking damage. In fact, Enjolras had seen the beginning of a light in his eyes, a joyful acceptance of the restraint. And when he gave the makeshift leash a pull, Grantaire followed without question, his eyes not leaving Enjolras' face.

\- I do beg your forgiveness.

\- How can I believe that you are sincere? All you do is mock and lie.

\- You must believe me, Enjolras. I have never lied. No matter how my words may have irritated and frustrated you.

Still Grantaire looked at him, not in the slightest bit abashed by his situation, and Enjolras narrowed his eyes.

\- I have you in such a position, and you still have the audacity to keep your eyes up? Have you no shame?

\- Shame, Apollo? Shame is a concept, shame is for those who will not admit to their own failings and shortcomings, and I openly admit to all of mine. For what should I be ashamed of, of this of all moments? You are the one who might be called to feel shame, should you not accept this. You hold the leash. Do you accept to use it?

Enjolras almost blushed at the sheer audacity of those words, but controlled himself and simply beckoned slowly.

\- You wish to apologise?

\- Have I not said it enough?

\- You have said it more than enough. Enough with words. Put your mouth to a task more suited to it.

 

One would have told him about this evening and the things that he would do, Enjolras would never have even contemplated imagining it. He was the marble lover of liberty, he had not the inclination nor the freedom to conjure up those parts of human desires. And yet...and yet here he was, Grantaire still kneeling, his tongue sliding over the worn leather of Enjolras' boots.

The silence was absolute save for their breathing, but Enjolras could have sworn his heart was beating loud enough for the whole of Paris to hear it. What was he doing? How could he possibly be allowing such an act to be done? Obedience was one issue, but humiliation was certainly another. And yet...and yet he couldn't ignore the heat in his loins as he sat there and watched Grantaire's bowed head. And the heat kept growing and Grantaire kept licking.

Slowly and diligently, he crept up the boots, his eyes finally met his leader's eyes, and he managed a smile that had no humiliation whatsoever contained in it.

\- Is this all you would have me lick, Enjolras?

\- … As always, you've no shame.

\- And as always, you elude my questions until you cannot elude them any longer. I do not ask a difficult philosophical problem, I do not ask you to choose between two conflicting yet identical ideals, nor to choose between cutting off your hand or your tongue. I merely ask you a simple, and hardly unexpected question considering the situation.

\- Grantaire, leave this be.

\- I would hear it.

There was a pleading tone to Grantaire's voice, one that Enjolras had never heard before. Or maybe he had simply not paid enough attention to the other man before. How could he have missed this otherwise?

\- Do not ask this.

\- I cannot do anything else, I need to hear it simply and plainly said. Refuse me and I will never speak of this again. On this you have my word.

 

Enjolras sighed, a shuddering sound that sounded oh so loud in the silence, and Grantaire's hand was suddenly on his thigh, warm and heavy.

\- You do not wish to answer me...

\- I do not wish to answer you! All you do is confuse me, as if this were a game to you! See what I have already made you do, how could I believe that were I to give you an inch, you would not take it all. Do not presume to lie. I know you better than you know yourself, you have no self-control.

\- No shame, no self-control. I have nothing of the sort, as you have so often said. But look at us, how much of an inch remains to be taken? As you have said, you have already made me do so much, but I only ask to be allowed to continue. I only ask to hear those words fall from your lips like pearls and starlight, like nectar from Hermes Trismegistus. I am the desperate Pylades to the unwilling Orestes, the darkness that only desires to be split apart by the shining light; I have no light of my own, Enjolras, you of all people know that my own obscurity cannot be vanquished by a simple candle. With enough supplication, would that I might explode into luminescence, with those simple words gathered from you.

\- I cannot.

*

The sentence fell like lead, suffocating the slightest warmth that might have crept up between them; Grantaire slowly removed his hand from where it had rested against Enjolras' knee, and fell silent. His silver tongue failed him, leaving him in forsaken silence, but he could not deny that the answer had been begged for. Rising at last from his knees, he came to sit against the window, eyes and thoughts downcast towards the Parisian streets shining under the moonlight.

\- I have my answer, then. It was as expected, I cannot hold anything against you, I should be grateful to have had such a chance, more than grateful. I shall remove myself from you, as I should have done at the very beginning. And you have my reassurance that no-one shall hear of this from my lips.

\- Can I believe you?

Enjolras was shaking, but from what he couldn't tell. Too many thoughts were flying around in his mind, too many questions; his hands were still, amazingly so, even when Grantaire turned around to face him once more. His eyes were red-rimmed and burning, but they held his gaze without flinching, his voice raw nd grating, so different than his usual timbre.

\- You believe that I cannot hold my tongue?

\- I know you cannot. I would not trust you with the smallest of my secrets and with good reason. When you are in your cups, nothing is too sacred, too precious or too important to not share with any and all of your fair-weather companions. It is yet another flaw of your character, I understand that it isn't entirely of your doing, but I cannot trust you.

\- I have held the most sacred, precious and important secret close to my heart and not a hint of it has ever escaped me, save only to you and by design. But I understand. I would not trust myself either. After all, I am but the dark. And no-one should trust the dark. I shall remain obscured, shadowed, in the darkness in which I continue to writhe, hoping one day a candle will show me the way out.

\- Grantaire.

He waited, hardly noticing his nails were digging into his palms. His mind was racing once more, filled with need to explain himself. No-one else seemed to elicit such a visceral response to a simple answer. Because it was so terribly simple indeed, just a word should have been enough.

\- Grantaire, I cannot.

\- Yes, you have already said so. I have heard. You cannot, and so should not. It is as simple as that, and I shall take my leave. I have taken up enough of your valuable time, time you should devote to your patria. She is a cruel mistress, but I have faith in you and your choices, and I hope that she keeps your secrets close to her. I would hate for you to be disappointed again. Ah, but listen to me, I am still here when I should be elsewhere. Farewell Enjolras, I wish you all the best and I shall see you when next we shall.

 

His footsteps were slow down the Musain steps, and they were finished before Enjolras noticed that he had forgotten to breathe. Still he stood, unmoving like a statue, in the centre of the pamphlet-strewn room, half-expecting to hear Grantaire return.

Perhaps this had been for the best. Perhaps finally saying the words aloud would elicit changes that were needed.

Perhaps his heart was not beating so fast for anything other than relief.

Perhaps.

Perhaps...


End file.
